"Am I a drug?" asked Love, curious. "Many a poem have I read, and they have continually termed me as a drug. Am I really a drug?"
"Yes, you are!" yelled the purple boy. "You are a drug who intoxicates people and blinds their eyes. They think there's a light at the end of the tunnel. What they fail to know is that it's not a tunnel with ends, it's a dark room with no doors built."
The yellow girl chuckled softly. "No, no!" She argued. "Love..yes, you are a drug. But not the one which intoxicates people and plugs the pipes in a human being. You are the drug that mends the brokenness of the very soul and heals the thing. That thing which none can, which all the forces of the cosmos could try to heal but fail every time — the heart."
Author's note:
Are you the purple boy or the yellow girl? 💖
Is love a drug, afterall?(=
Comment down your interpretations. Thank you for all the overwhelming support!
YOU ARE READING
Raindrops | Poetry
PoetrySitting under the rain, hoping to drown in things other than my thoughts. [ collection of poems, musings and more ] Also read 'Mixtape', under my profile. Cover by Simran, @SweetSimu #itsnotaphase Highest Ranking: #9 in POETRY as of 27/04/2018 (when...
